


Fluff and nonsense

by Splinter



Category: Alien Series, Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Board Games, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gift Giving, unicorn shirt, watching horror movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: In which there are scary movies, board games and sparkly shirts.





	1. Scary

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted these fluffy Mad Max fics on tumblr, but given the current tumblrpocalypse, it seemed a good idea to back them up now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In which somehow they got their hands on a functioning old world TV and vhs or dvds and Furiosa is totally not buying this horror movie at all, NOPE she’s just being considerate to Max who clearly is the distressed one. Max is not going to argue."
> 
> This prompt was [originally drawn](https://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/post/161125475763/lurkinghistoric-youkaiyume-in-which-somehow) by [Youkaiyume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoukaiYume/pseuds/YoukaiYume).  
> 

The videoplayer isn’t a new discovery. It’s been at the Citadel for thousands of days. Furiosa remembers seeing it in the Vault, when it had actually worked. She thinks it may have belonged to the Before people who lived in the Citadel.

It survived intact, even after it was broken, because its parts don’t fit anything else, anything more useful. Many of the tele-visual devices have been taken to bits for decoration: circuits had been a fashion among some of the warlords. This one was so obviously complete that it was left alone, just in case. In case what, Furiosa remembers a war boy complaining.

Now Toast and one of the revheads have found a way to make it work, though vee-aitches to play on it are even rarer than wordburgers. Like the tattered pages, they’re fragmented. Sometimes the pictures are worn pale, the images strangely striped and jumpy. Others are in better condition, but part of longer sequences, with sections of the story missing. Cheedo and the Dag love the picture-videos best, where the moving images look like colourful drawings. Furiosa doesn’t really have time to watch, but sometimes finds herself still sitting there, long after she meant to be back at work.

Max, who keeps an eye out for wordburgers, must have been looking for the vee-aitches, too. This time, he’s come back with a handful of them. He gives Cheedo one about the Before Landscape – it’s one of the drawing stories, with lizards that had died out even before the world was killed. He has several more, passing them out, but he holds onto one with a glowing green egg on the cover. The eggs Furiosa has seen have been bone-coloured, never green, but she recognises the shape.

“I’ve seen this one before,” Max tells them. “It’s good. It’s a good story.” So that’s the one they watch that evening.

“It’s scary,” Max adds. Furiosa isn’t sure if he’s warning them, or getting cold feet about his choice. She knows the girls sometimes get caught up in the stories, but she’s hardly likely to be scared by a flickering fiction from Before. She sits down next to Max, comfortably close on a pile of cushions.

Like so many of the vee-aitches, it’s baffling at first. Lines drift across the screen, only gradually revealing themselves as words, deliberately hard to read.

The vee-aitch shows a Before time working space, empty of people. The Nostromo, a form of transport, has so many corridors, so much wiring and piping. She wonders what it must have been like, having so much technology that you could use it to decorate klicks of corridor, just for scenes of a story in which nothing is even happening yet.

When the people wake up, she finds them less alien than their ship. She recognises the personality clashes of a small crew in a confined space, of people with different priorities. The Nostromo’s need for repairs is familiar, too. Furiosa decides she likes Ripley, who seems to understand the importance of keeping moving, of getting the job done.

She thinks Max likes Ripley, too.

“She shaved her head, later,” he murmurs into Furiosa’s ear. “Not in this one. Another story.” She hopes that means Ripley is okay in this vee-aitch. It’s become clear that it’s the sort of story where not everybody will be okay. It’s strange, though, to see Ash and the others wearing such weak protective clothing in the operation scene. She can see bare skin, inches away from the slimy thing. They’d probably end up doing that in the wasteland, even at the well-stocked Citadel, but surely the Before people had better resources? Kane himself had full protective gear to go outside. She and Mel both mutter about it, before Toast shushes them. 

Furiosa can’t stifle a squeak when another of the creatures explodes out of Kane’s chest, bloody and unexpected. Max’s arm tightens around her when she jumps. He’d said it was scary: perhaps he wants something to hold onto. She cuddles closer, not taking her eyes off the screen.

She can see why he might be scared. Knowing that the alien is there and waiting, but not being sure where it will appear next. By the time Ripley starts the self-destruct sequence, Furiosa is pressed up against Max, which she hopes he will find comforting. She digs her fingers into his shirt when the alien appears on the escape vehicle, doesn’t let go until she’s sure Ripley and Jones are safely away. 

“That was good,” the Dag says, though they all agree it’s too late to watch another. As they get up to go to bed, people are still discussing the story, asking questions about real and fictional Before technology and behaviours. 

As she and Max go back to her room, it occurs to Furiosa that the Citadel has even more corridors than the Nostromo. It has a lot of piping, too, though of course it’s very different from the places where the alien waited for Ripley. She realises Max is watching her, seeing the way her eyes check the shadows. He puts his arm back around her.

“You can keep me safe,” he says.


	2. Unicorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From [this photograph](https://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/post/165619667648/fuertecito-i-thought-i-couldnt-love-tom-hardy), which [Youkaiyume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoukaiYume/pseuds/YoukaiYume) tagged: #i would love a fic in which the a unicorn shirt was scavenged from the underground mall and was gifted to Max

“The thing on the front is called a unicorn,” Cheedo explains, pronouncing the unfamiliar word carefully. The shirt sits on the table in front of Max, folded to show its pastel-coloured subject, all flowing pink-and-purple mane and twirly horn. They must have got it from the last run to the underground shopping mall. It looks almost new, the colours barely faded and with no wear showing to the soft, pale fabric. He’s got into the habit of bringing back little gifts for them, things he’d found or traded for in the wasteland, but he hadn’t expected them to have something ready for him in return. 

“We thought it would suit you,” Cheedo adds, very seriously. “It’s not a real animal, a unicorn, not even a real extincted one. It’s a wordburger animal, just for tales and pictures – the way the Wretched talk about you sometimes. Though they know you’re real, they’ve seen you.”

“Miss Giddy had a story about a unicorn,” Capable remembers. “She’d got it from a wordburger – or maybe a flick? She kept hoping it would show up so she could read it again. But it was definitely a unicorn.”

“It was the last one left behind, because all the others had been – oh!” The Dag’s voice breaks off when Capable elbows her.

“It was brave and – maybe lonely and wanted to do the right thing,” Cheedo continues, getting flustered.

“S’nice,” Max says hastily, trying to head off further revelations. He’s been compared to plenty of animals in his time, usually for unflattering reasons, but a unicorn is new. He picks up the shirt – it’s sleeveless, a singlet. The touch of it, and the fact that it’s survived this long, suggest real cotton. “Feels nice.”

“The Vuvalini remembered other unicorn stories,” Capable says, steering the conversation into safer channels. “There were pictures of them, thread pictures.”

“Tapestries,” explains Gilly, one of the Vuvalini, from the other side of the table. “Very beautiful, showing the five senses. A unicorn and a lady, a woman. Sight, sound, touch – and a sixth one, too, desire…”

“That’s not a sense,” Toast points out.

“Anyway, Furiosa agreed you’d need another shirt,” Cheedo continues. “I don’t think she minded about the picture, so much, but she thought you’d like that shape.” Max looks at Furiosa, surprised. If he has a choice, he tends to go for something that will cover him up, particularly his vulnerable back. He knows she knows that, she’s always been careful to find him long-sleeved t-shirts in the past, plain heavy cotton. This one is cut high enough at the back to hide his Citadel tattoo, but will leave his arms bare.

“It’s good fabric,” Furiosa says firmly, not quite soon enough to drown out Toast. 

“No, _Furiosa _likes that shape –”__

__“Good for sleeping,” Furiosa continues. She’s gone a bit pink, a deeper colour than the shirt in Max’s hands. His last sleeping shirt had disintegrated, its holes made worse by her habit of stroking over and under it. Through it, by the end. And he knows she likes his arms._ _

__“Don’t need sleeves when you’re sleeping,” agrees Toast, all innocence. “Are you going to try it on?”_ _

__If it were just Toast asking, Max would put it off, or try it on over his own shirt. She’s teasing, anyway. But Cheedo is expectant, hoping that he likes his present, while Furiosa looks uncomfortable, the way she does when she’s worried they’re asking too much of him. Besides, it’s only a shirt. Better to get it over with._ _

__They’re sitting in the common room, an airy space filled with plants. He’s relaxed enough, the evening warm enough, that he’s taken his jacket off already, sitting with his back to the wall. He gets his own shirt off quickly, and pulls the unicorn shirt on._ _

__He can’t help tugging at the shoulders, making sure that his marked back is hidden, but it’s a good fit. The cotton is soft and clean, slightly stiffer at the front because of the print. Cheedo beams._ _

__“It looks great! The picture is so pretty on you.”_ _

__“Not bad,” Toast says, grinning._ _

__“It suits you,” Furiosa agrees, unexpectedly soft, tucking her flesh hand into his bare arm._ _


	3. Competitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A line in ninety6tears’ fic [My Blue Bucket of Gold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909205/chapters/26908620) reminded me of a prompt for “playing a video game/board game”. So here are Max and Furiosa playing backgammon.
> 
> This ficlet is fluffy, but does have a reference to canon-typical grief .

Max is watching Furiosa. She’s holding the cup so that her flesh hand keeps the dice inside as she shakes it. Tipping them out, she watches eagerly as they roll across the board.

The dice don’t match. One might have come with the backgammon set, a survival from Before. Much of its paint has rubbed off, but you can still see the dents of the spots. The other is a carved stone, remarkably square and apparently well-balanced. Nobody has spotted any bias in its results, and it’s not that they haven’t been looking.

The set had belonged to a past imperator, found in an abandoned personal chamber. It’s old but cared for, all its counters present, though one or two have been mended. The Vuvalini had known it as a game, but couldn’t quite remember the rules. When Max had recognised it, the Dag had pounced: she loves games, the patterns and the strange logic, wants to know how they work.

So he’d explained, remembering old matches, playing as a child. There had been a craze for it at school, one kid – what was her name? – had brought in a travelling set, and then they’d all wanted to learn. So he wasn’t surprised when Cheedo, Toast and even Capable demanded lessons. It’s a shame there’s only one board, but they take turns, and sometimes play in teams. This match is just Max against Furiosa, with the Dag sitting beside them, watching the play and giving some of her many opinions.

Furiosa’s enthusiasm had been more unexpected. There she is, de facto warlord of a region, being wildly, ardently competitive over a scrap of tabletop kingdom. It’s entrancing. She bends over backwards to make sure the Citadel is run by the council, to distance the new regime from her own old authority. She guards herself. Given dice and counters, she plays like a conqueror, like a greedy child.

Sprog had been too young for board games, had never – Max shuts that thought down. He’s letting himself remember more, now, but still keeps some things locked away.

He comes back to the moment when the Dag nudges him, hard.

“You’re not to let her win this time.” Max huffs, denying it. Then he thinks of something, glances over to where the other girls are drinking tea, talking over the work of the day.

“You let Cheedo win,” he points out, in a rumbly undertone, quiet enough that he doesn’t think Cheedo will hear. The Dag glares at him.

Furiosa is carefully counting along the points of the board.

“That’s cheating!” The Dag says, firmly moving a counter back.

“No, I started on – oh,” Furiosa looks a little downcast as she realises the Dag was right.

“Does it matter,” Max starts, until speared by outraged looks from both women. Apparently, it does.

**Author's Note:**

> So far, I'm still at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr...
> 
> Also now [on Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/lurkinghistoric)


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